Bobby had trouble taking pleasure in fucking Jake over with this new haul because something was wrong inside his stomach. That goddamn punch had messed things up in there, and Bobby could feel the pain worsening. Blood spots appeared between the torn stitches, soaking the paper towels he kept replacing. He had to hold out until tomorrow, and with the new cash he could see a good doctor, not one of those county shits that gave him a fucking infection. The pain flared and he bent over the sink, making sure the two on the floor didn’t see him. He breathed hard, hoping the new bennies would kick in soon. He was turning them over faster and faster. He lifted his shirt, wiped away some of the blood and promised himself to kill Jake slowly once he got the Seattle stash.
Not a bullet to his gut, because it was too noisy. Bobby checked the knives in the wooden block on the counter. He’d use the long one with a serrated edge. Let’s see how he likes it, Bobby thought. A torn gut. Let’s see how long he can survive his fucking intestines chopped up. Thinking about this made him happy. Seeing the jewelry and cash on the table made him happy. He drank more water, since the cold seemed to help, and returned to the jewelry. Goddamn. With this and the Seattle stash, he could retire. He could buy a motor home and live on the beach. Maybe one day he’d drive up to Seattle and show off to his mother, let her know he wasn’t a total fuck-up like she thought.
Kevin never had a motor home. Kevin never even left home, that pussy. At least Bobby looked out for himself and didn’t depend on Mommy’s money to live. What a loser. He found himself getting annoyed. He focused on the jewelry.
The two on the floor were talking. Bobby said, “Shut the hell up. Am I going to have to lock you guys up in different rooms? You want that?” He stood up too fast, and felt more pain, but he tried not to show it. He walked slowly towards them. Eugene said, “You don’t need both of us. Let her go.”
Bobby laughed. “Give me a fucking break. Where’d you learn that? TV? Asshole, two of you means double insurance.”
“Why don’t you just take that and leave?” Rachel said.
Bobby stared at her. She was really pretty, and he looked down at the outline of her legs in her black tights. He said, “Why the hell would you help Jake?”
Her eyes narrowed.
He said, “You supposed to get a cut?” He turned to Eugene. “Why didn’t you know about it?”
He said, “I told him not to involve me.”
“But she’s your wife?”
“Will you just let her go?” he said.
Bobby leaned forward and pushed aside her jacket, checking her breasts. She slid away.
“Hey,” Eugene said. “What the hell.”
Lifting his gun and aiming it at him, Bobby said, “Quiet.” He felt himself getting hard. He hadn’t screwed around in months. He wondered if he still could, with his stitches coming out. His groin began hurting, though, from the punch. Everything was connected. He said to Rachel, “Maybe I should put you in the bedroom.”
She said, “You can go fuck yourself.”
Bobby smiled. “That’s what you’re here for.” He pointed the gun at her and said, “Come on. Get up.”
“No fucking way,” Eugene said, trying to sit up.
Bobby kicked him in the side, and he went down. The sudden movement sent a jolt of searing pain through his stomach and groin, and he doubled over, holding his stomach. Rachel jumped up and began running towards the door. He cursed and hobbled after her, ignoring the feeling of something tearing inside him. She bent over and backed up, trying to open the door with her hands tied behind her, her fingers wiggling towards the knob. She found the doorknob, but Bobby reached her, grabbed her neck and threw her against the wall. She cried out.
The door clicked, and suddenly flung open. A figure lunged towards him, and he realized it was Jake. Bobby brought his gun up, but Jake sliced his hand with a knife and kicked him hard in the groin, the shock so violent that Bobby actually saw flashes of white light across his vision, and his grip loosened on the gun, but he didn’t let go. Jake yanked Bobby’s arm up and tried to stab him again, but Bobby fell back, avoiding him. He watched the knife and managed to aim the gun at Jake’s midsection. He pulled the trigger and the loud crack seemed to shake the building. Jake clutched his waist, looking down, then up at Bobby in shock. Bobby tightened his grip on the gun, closed the door quickly, and said, “That was very stupid.” Jake went down on one knee, holding his side with one hand and staring at the knife in his other hand, his mouth open. Bobby could barely move with the pain in his groin. He said, “You lose.” He advanced and hit Jake’s head as hard as he could with the gun, connecting cleanly over his ear, Bobby’s arm jolting and bouncing off. Jake’s head snapped to the side, his eyelids fluttered, and he collapsed.